Lose this thin day
grey shine of June
mid-summer of white flies
dreary afternoon
trail carved in stone
bliss' path
burial-boats blaze
in summer's ceremony
takes us there
to seasons feast
seven spiked elk
let us sway
to the shadow
of the grave-meadows
prepare the dead
rinse the grey skin
sprouts growing
in burial-grove
spirit carriages
through the vale